Gay Under the Table

I still remember the first time I replied to a gay personals ad online. I was only 18, in the first month of university in a new city away from everyone I had ever known.

Hung looking for younger gay

37yo bwm, masculine, drug and disease free

Looking for someone who likes kissing, sucking, maybe fucking.

I sent him my stats and a face shot taking at an angle extreme enough to hide my identity.

He replied less than five minutes later: "Shooters and cocks, 7pm?"

That's the name of a gay bar. There wasn't much time, so I sent a one word reply, took a shower, being extra careful to scrub out my butt crack, just in case. I wanted to smell good for my newfound lover.

I showed up at the bar about a half hour early, only to find it wasn't open yet. I only touched the knob, gave it a turn to confirm it was locked, and quickly walked along before anyone could notice me.

I waited across the street in a cafe for the place to open. At some point close to 7 I turned my head, actually distracted by a couple girls talking a little too explicitly about their sex lives--who knew they put so much worth in giving guys blowjobs? Like really, what kind of pleasure do they get out of that? When I turned back there was a light on above the door, and it was slightly open.

I went up the block, taking the long way to cross the street, so I could have a full view of the place on my approach.

Right as I put my hand on the knob, I heard a whistle behind me. I turned around to see a cowboy--he was wearing an actual cowboy hat, and he was over 6ft tall, wearing skin-tight jeans and a white T-shirt, and looking me up and down with his preying eyes. Was he some kind of redneck looking to beat up faggots? Scenarios of being outed to everyone back home flashed through my mind.

I almost turned away and hurried off, but I twisted the knob and walked in.

I hurried down the stairs, under the big canopy rainbow flag, and disappeared into the gay bar. It was dark inside, with all the walls and ceiling painted black. There was a big dance floor on one side of the room, a bar on the other side, and booths with tableclothed tables all around the walls. I was the only one in there, other than staff.

I felt like a slut. I also had to go to the bathroom. I asked a beefy guy who looked like a security guard where the washroom was, and went in.

Well, it wasn't some crazy sex dungeon riddled with glory holes. When I came out, that cowboy was sitting at one of the tables, his arms both stretched out on the back of the booth. His eyes were on me.

I ordered a beer from the bar, and then wandered to a stool nearby.

"Hey!" the cowboy called.

I looked over.

"You merichane?" he asked.

I nodded guiltily.

He waved his head to beckon me over. I came over and sidled into the booth with him.

"Are you gay?" I asked him.

"Nope," he said dismissively. "Are you?"

"Well, uh," I replied. I'd never actually answered this question honestly before, "uh, yeah."

He barely even looked at me. "How do you suck cock?" he asked.

I was a little taken aback.

"Spit or swallow?" he elaborated.

"Oh, uh, swallow."

He brought his thick bicep down and grabbed my hand. I'd only ever held hands before, with my female grad date in high school. Guess how well that worked out.

His hand was rougher than hers, and he pulled it downwards, under the tablecloth. He cupped my hand over his already semi-hard dick, still encased in his jeans.

But wait, didn't he say he wasn't gay? Suddenly, he sat upright. "Get under the table," he commanded me.

"What? But I--okay," I capitulated. I slid down, keeping my hand on his hardening cock.

He unzipped his pants and slid them down below his knees. Suddenly, I was pressed up against a man's thighs. I'm gay, but this was the first time for me. I felt the tip of his weiner touch me on the nose.

He wanted me to suck it, and at the time I felt I had two options: walk away from the homosexual that I thought I was, or do what he said.

I leaned over and gave his cock head a quick kiss. It felt hard and a little wet from precum. Annoyingly, it curved up, which meant I had to lean forward on my knees and place my head right up against the bottom of the table just to launch it into my mouth.

Having that dick in my mouth, that made me feel gay. I was pleasing this man, and it wasn't a world-ending event.

I began having fun with the shape of a cock in my mouth, moving up and down like my warm, moist cavity was a pussy for this gnarled cowboy cock. But still, it was dick and I was scoring!

I felt like--well, not a man, but I felt like he was the man, and I was his to do with as he pleased. He grabbed both sides of my head and tried to force me down farther until I was gagging.

Then, I heard commotion from outside the safety of my table refuge.

"Hey Randy," a gruff voice said, as a pair of legs slipped in at the other end of the table.

"How's it going, buddy?" sakd another voice, as another plump ass seated itself on the opposite side of me.

I was about four inches down on his cock, with the table directly above my head, I dared not move, or I'd bump my head on the table and alert the others that I was there.

I began using my tongue to stimulate my rugged cowboy man, keeping the rest of my mouth over his cock but tight. He started getting into it too, thrusting up into my mouth a bit. Then he started grunting. Then he started shooting ropes of hot cum into my mouth, banging my head on the bottom of the table.

He immediately went limp, and I withdrew. Then I heard a zipper on my left. This was followed by a slapping sound, as he began waving his dick back and forth, slapping it against each thigh.

Okay, I was outed. They knew I was down here. I was paralyzed for a moment, during which I heard the bartender come over and take their order.

The dick waved more, and finally I came to it. This man was fatter than the cowboy, and he had bushier pubic hair, which at first hid the great girth of his huge cock. It had the exact dimensions of a beer can. Hard to fit into my mouth, but I knew the only way out was by sucking this monster to completion.

When he came, it was heavy and it tasted awful. I couldn't swallow, and instead regurgitated all over his pubes.

He groaned and grunted with satisfaction, and when he was done he stood up. He and my cowboy boyfriend went off to the bathroom. I stayed under the table, pausing to catch my breath, when the third guy called down to me.

"Come out from under there," he said. "You don't need to be under there."

I came up, and met him face to face. He was older than the cowboy, maybe over 40, and he had a big biker beard and a huge beer gut. Definitely the kind of guy I could do better, than, I thought.

"So, how are you?" he asked.

"Uh, okay?" I replied tentatively.

"Good work on taking their two cocks," he complimented me.

"Thanks," I replied, blushing visibly. "Uh, do you want me to--"

"No, that's okay," he replied. "Come up here and sit with me.

I came out from under the table, looking around to see that the place had filled up somewhat since I went under.

This big, thick man wrapped his arms around me and kissed me very wetly on the forehead. He was chubby, and I could feel his fat fingers probing down my thigh. "You do anal?" he asked.

I didn't, but I did that night, and maybe that story will have to come at a later time. That man was my first boyfriend, and we were together for two years, during which time he did everything imaginable to both my holes, and a couple other things I never would've thought of. Long story short, but sometimes I can still feel his thick semen spraying the inside of my cheek, and I wish I could have one more round with him.